


Mistletoe Madness

by Antarc



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Frottage, Intercrural Sex, M/M, POV Steve Harrington, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, mild angst mostly fluff, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarc/pseuds/Antarc
Summary: "Someone wanna write Billy and Steve kissing under the mistletoe in the doorway to the kitchen of Steve’s empty house and itquicklyleads to them banging against the doorframe??"A late Christmas gift to my favorite cock~
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 167





	Mistletoe Madness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CockAsInTheBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CockAsInTheBird/gifts).



Steve doesn’t like to mention it to others, because the pitying glances are a bit much to take, but his parents don’t come home for Christmas anymore. 

Sure, they make him come up to their massive condo in Indy for a few days to play happy family. They have the house in Hawkins decorated for those pre-Christmas dinners they like to host, to make the house look just as shiny and sparkly as the rest of the neighborhood.

But for most of December, he’s on his own. 

He’s learned to see it as a good thing. Otherwise, it’s hard to handle an empty home.

The moment his dad mentions how ‘things are getting busy at the company’ it’s like his mom turns into a bloodhound that’s picked up a scent. He used to pity her for the faked cheerfulness in her voice when she’d declare their prolonged stay at the condo shortly after. Like she was just too busy with work as well and not trying to keep tabs on his dad.

Maybe it’s karma that he can now understand that forced cheer so much better than he ever would’ve imagined. That underlying desperation to keep things normal, keep up appearances. Harboring a constant well of anxiety even when outwardly there doesn’t seem to be anything to be worried about.

It’s not like that with Billy, thank god. If there’s one thing Steve can expect, it’s at least some form of honesty- be it through words or actions.

In some ways, this undefined, increasingly intense relationship between them is so much more honest than any of Steve’s short-lived flings and his one disaster with Nancy. With Billy, it always feels like he comes around because he genuinely wants to. Not because he feels obligated, but because he _likes_ being around Steve. 

So it doesn’t come as a surprise when he goes to the Christmas play Dustin stars in as emotional support and during his smoke break at the intermission Billy sidles up next to him. Steve watches him pat down his pants and way too flimsy shirt for the December chill. Finally, he turns to Steve with a chagrined smile. 

“Forgot my smokes,” he says, like he left the gym-turned-theater in such a hurry he forgot his jacket. Or like he planned to bum a cigarette in the first place.

He looks ridiculously hot, all cleaned up and his version of proper. He’s probably put on the only polo he owns, soft blue that compliments his eyes. Steve wants to kiss his cheeks, flushed from the cold. Wants to ruffle through Billy’s perfectly styled curls until he looks like he just had an intense makeout session.

Instead, he reaches into his backpocket and tugs out his pack of Marlboros, lighter conveniently slipped inside. He flips it open, carefully takes out a single cigarette and places it between Billy’s lips. Allows himself a short brush against soft skin and holds Billy’s gaze the entire time as he lifts the flame of his lighter to the tip.

Watching Billy take that first drag is mesmerizing. He smirks around his cigarette, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Steve.

“Heard your house got all fancy for the season,” he says when he exhales right in Steve’s face. He doesn’t even flinch. “Wanna show me around later tonight?”

“Of course.” Steve wants to break out into a big smile at the thought of Billy coming over. If he’s playing good big brother to watch Max star as a surprisingly cute angel in the play, he’ll be free the rest of the evening. Free to sleep over at Steve’s place, maybe even stay the entire weekend.

Some of that instant giddiness must seep through, into his eyes or his tone, and Billy’s expression shifts from smug to something softer. He nods and looks away, scans the school yard littered with other smoking relatives and then shifts until he leans against the wall. Almost close enough to bump Steve’s shoulder.

“Looking forward to the grand tour,” he mutters around another plume of smoke. Steve sucks on his own cigarette, just to have something to do. Switches it from one hand to the other. Lets his arm drop between them. Lets just his pinky brush against Billy’s palm.

***

The most cruel part about the Christmas decorations is that the lights are set to a timer that turns them on and off without Steve’s interference. At the beginning of December, he’ll come home from work and for a moment see lit up windows and fairy lights wound into trees and feel a shock of excitement.

For a moment, he’ll expect to find his parents inside.

And then he’ll unlock the front door and step into silence.

At least today, he’s more occupied with anticipation of Billy’s arrival. He’ll probably drop Max off at home, grab a change of clothes and be at the door in less than an hour. Until then, Steve actually tries to enjoy the festive decorations his mom’s favorite indoor designer friend has sent over. 

This year’s theme is silver. Silver garlands everywhere, combined with blood red ball ornaments and icy white, star shaped lights. Drops of green where mistletoe hangs. 

No crooked, handmade ornaments from Steve’s childhood in sight. He can’t even remember the last Christmas that he got to pull out the little box he once made to hold all the ‘treasures’ his parents used to hang from their tree.

In an attempt to distract himself from his low mood, he tries to focus on the rest of the night in front of him. While he could order takeout again, he’s discovered recently that Billy is surprisingly conscious of his diet and gets kinda antsy after too much junk food. As if he doesn’t already work out a lot. 

But hey, Steve gets it. Kinda. So instead of grabbing the pizza menu, he does the next best ‘lazy’ food he can think of: A baking sheet covered with potato halves, roughly chopped zucchini and bell peppers and chicken breasts, all drizzled in olive oil and salt and pepper. It’s one of the few dishes his mom taught him. 

Both her and his dad are more the ‘order in food or eat out’ types of people and all her recipes amount to 'chop it up, throw it in a pot/a pan/the oven and wait till it’s done'.

He sets a timer, turns on the radio and is right in the middle of preparing hot toddies when the doorbell rings. The mugs he was just about to set down almost fall to the ground, he’s so fast out of the kitchen and headed towards the front entrance.

Right on the other side of the door is Billy, huddled in his sherpa-lined jean jacket against the cold. His face lights up when he sees Steve.

“Look at you,” he says. Steps inside and crowds into Steve’s space, with the doors falling shut behind him. 

“Glad you could make it,” Steve smiles and gestures towards the fancy decor. “Ready for your tour? Wanna take in the sights?”

“Oh, I’m taking in the sights alright,” comes back with a shameless tongue wriggle that never fails to make Steve squirm.

“Ugh, stop it,” he shoves his hand over Billy’s mouth to cover up his lecherous smirk and gets his palm licked. He rips his hand away. “Gross! You want a hot toddy first?” He asks while Billy takes his jacket and shoes off.

“Sure. Lead the way.”

Except when Steve enters the kitchen, Billy doesn’t follow him inside. He turns around, curious as to what’s keeping him occupied. There’s nothing out of the ordinary. Just Billy, leaned against the door frame. He’s still in his stupid sexy polo, collar popped open as far as it can get.

“Come here,” he says, eyes all on Steve. Like he can’t get enough of looking at him either.

“What? Why?” But he’s already moving on instinct. It’s impossible to resist Billy’s gravitational pull when he looks like this. Steve’s brain feels fried, like looking at Billy for too long makes it impossible to think about anything but how much fun it would be to sink to his knees right here, open his pants and let Billy fuck his face.

The moment he steps close enough, Billy grabs him around the waist and pulls him closer. His hands slip underneath Steve’s dark blue sweater, eagerly pawing at his skin.

“What’s all this about?” he laughs. Not like he’s complaining, he loves being pressed close together like this.

In lieu of a reply, Billy looks up. Steve follows his gaze and notices a mistletoe arrangement above their heads There's even fake ice crystals on it. 

He looks down, breath caught in his lungs. 

This is the kind of romantic shit he never imagined Billy would be into. Yet here they are, wrapped around each other, dressed all prim and proper and about to make out underneath the mistletoe.

Something warm and fond bubbles up in Steve’s chest. He gives a little peck to Billy’s cheek. The clearly offended reaction in response cracks him up.

“Ohh no, try again.”

The next kiss is just as quick, right on Billy’s lovely nose. It makes that adorable twitch in reaction, like a bunny. Before he can complain again, another kiss lands on his mouth- there and gone again, clearly not what he had in mind.

Billy growls. Tightens his grip on Steve hard enough to shoot a thrill through him when he gets a taste of all that strength in Billy’s arms.

And then Billy’s mouth is on his with firm, unavoidable kisses. A warm tongue slips against the seam of his closed lips and he opens up with a sigh. His hands find Billy’s hair, finally able to mess it up like he’s really wanted to all evening.

It’s all dizzying heat and slick movement of their mouths from there. Billy turns them just enough that he can crowd Steve against the doorjamb and pushes his thick thigh between his legs. Adding pressure until Steve whimpers into his mouth, dick growing hard with every firm press against it. 

His hips snap down and forward on pure instinct while he gets dizzy from lack of air. 

When they finally pause to breathe, Billy immediately starts in on Steve’s neck while he heaves big gasps. It’s like Billy constantly needs his mouth occupied when he’s horny. With Steve’s lips, his dick, sucking around his fingers, biting into his nipples, licking his hole... it’s never ending and a surefire way to get Steve’s brain to short-circuit.

“Can’t believe you came to a good Christian play in those pants,” Billy huffs against his skin. His hands wander down, from underneath Steve’s sweater to cup his ass. He squeezes. Steve groans.

“What’s wrong with my pants?” He feels too strung out already to gather a full thought together. He put on his khakis from two years ago and found they still fit, even if they’re a little bit tighter than they used to be, so he wore them. They're very much the same kind of ‘casual but respectable’ as Billy’s polo!

“Have you even looked at how these fit?!” Billy’s hands roughly shake his asscheeks, then go back to squeezing them. “You looked like you were gonna pop out of ‘em any moment.”

“They’re not tight,” Steve whines, even as he ruts his hips down onto Billy’s thigh again, fully hard now and desperate to really get him going. A little bit of token protest always does the trick. 

Billy laughs and flips him around, just like that.

All Steve can do is hold onto the doorjamb when he feels Billy’s hand sneak towards his front, where he’s hard and leaking into his underwear.  
A warm palm grinds down on his dick, almost too rough yet just perfect. Makes Steve moan and push forward to meet the pressure, then pushes his ass back into Billy’s crotch. Behind him, Billy moans.

“fffuck, you shouldn’t be allowed to wear these around me,” comes from behind Steve, desperate and a little unhinged. Billy flips Steve's fly open and unceremoniously tugs his pants and underwear down in one swift movement, until both rest just underneath his ass, keeping his legs conveniently trapped.

There’s the clink of Billy tugging his belt open. The sound of Billy gathering spit in his mouth, not registering fast enough before there’s a wet splash right on Steve’s ass, slowly dripping down his crack. 

“Hey!” he protests, even as his dick gives a traitorous, hard twitch between his legs. 

And then there’s Billy. A line of hot, heavy heat against Steve’s back, pressing him all the way against the doorjamb until his cock is nestled right between Steve’s ass cheeks. 

His hands land in a punishing grip on Steve’s hips, holding him in place as he ruts right into the mess of spit and sweat between his cheeks, gliding through it in a stuttering grind right over his hole.

It’s just on the side of too little slick to make the drag of skin a little bit painful. Makes Steve feel like Billy is staking his claim, too turned on to bother with any more prep.

Sweat forms on Steve’s back where Billy is plastered to him like a human furnace. One of Billy’s hands leaves his side, rummages around with _something_ until Steve hears the familiar sound of a package of lube being ripped open. Of course Billy had one in his back pocket.

For a moment, the pressure of Billy’s cock is gone, just to get replaced by his lube-slick hand right between Steve’s thighs. Glides right through the heat built up there until he reaches his balls. Very carefully, he nudges them and just that little point of contact makes Steve moan. Before he can clamp down around Billy’s hand, it slips out again.   
He leaves him sticky and a little confused. 

Steve turns just in time to get a good view of Billy looking wrecked and a little crazed. Sweaty and messed up hair, pants shoved down to show off his gorgeous, pulsing cock. He squeezes a bit more lube into his palm, then trows the small package thoughtlessly to the side. There’s a hungry glint in his eyes when he looks at Steve, roams over his back and naked ass.

Then he’s back on him again and his hand closes in a firm grip around Steve’s dick. With a fluid motion, Billy presses his cock right between Steve’s slicked-up thighs. His breath fans hot over the back of Steve’s neck and a barely suppressed moan reaches his ear.

Steve presses his thighs together, really luxuriates in the hot, firm press of Billy’s cock between them. And then Billy moves.

It’s intense. Different than when Billy is inside him. Intimate. A little bit like he’s using Steve’s body to get himself off, but also careful not to break him.

Steve can’t move. Can barely suck in enough air to moan when he’s holding up Billy, feeling safe and taken care of with Billy’s hand wrapped around him tight. His dick pulses, adds to the mess while Billy’s cock pushes again and again between his legs. Nudges Steve’s balls and the underside of his dick before he pulls back. Harder. Faster.

Steve’s breath starts to hitch. With every delicious upward stroke, he can feel Billy’s thumb collect another thick drop of precome he’s pushed out, smearing it under the sensitive head on his downwards stroke. Steve’s hips twitch in pleasure.

He comes.

It’s sudden, just on the precipice a moment ago and over it the next. There’s barely enough air in his lungs to whimper as his dick kicks in Billy’s grip, overwhelming heat from his back pools in his belly and pulses out of him in hard, body shaking spurts. Until he’s finally spent, barely holding onto the doorjamb and shakes through the aftershocks.

Distantly, he hears a moaned curse behind him. Feels Billy’s hand leave his oversensitive dick. His sweater gets shoved up, cold air hits his sweaty back. There’s hands on his asscheeks, kneading and pushing as Billy’s dick smacks right between them again.

“You’re so good,” Billy slurs into his back, barely coherent himself. The movement of his hips can barely be called a rhythm anymore, just mindless rutting. “Gonna mark you up. Make that ass all. Mine.” 

Steve moans. Gives a helpless, tiny shove back with his hips. And Billy finally comes in hot splashes right over Steve’s hole. Over Steve’s lower back. Dripping over his ass cheeks and into his crack. Rubs his dick through it until it’s spread all over and he collapses heavily onto Steve’s back.

They both try to catch their breaths for a moment. This is probably Steve’s favorite part. Blissful, companionable silence. Enjoying each other’s presence, no worries, no annoying cleanup. Well. He honestly doesn’t mind staying dirty a while longer. It’s kinda nice.

Finally, Billy huffs into his neck. “You need to say something if I’m too heavy, y’know?” Steve shrugs, as much as he can with Billy half holding him up and half pushing him down.

“But I _like_ it when we’re like this,” he shoots back, even as Billy pulls him upwards and back, until Billy leans against the other side of the doorjamb with Steve held against his chest like an oversized teddy bear.

He nuzzles his face into Steve’s neck. Presses a kiss against his skin.

The timer goes off, startling them both. They laugh.


End file.
